


Rising Sun

by callofsilence



Series: Phantoms [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Feitan-Centric, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Multi, Not with Mains though, Smoking, The Kurta Clan Massacre (Hunter X Hunter), Vague Feitan is a Zoldyck Theory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29721333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callofsilence/pseuds/callofsilence
Summary: In the fading light as Feitan loses consciousness, a boy appears before him, looking him over with vague intrigue. Ah, Feitan thinks, as he fades into nothingness. I see.That must be God.-The story of how Feitan came to be Feitan.
Relationships: Feitan/Phinks (Hunter X Hunter), Machi/Pakunoda, Uvogin | Ubogin/Shalnark
Series: Phantoms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184327
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Hey! Lumine here. This is my first literary work, so I'm a bit nervous to post this. I've been working on this for months now and I'm quite happy with how this came out! It's been proofread, but not beta read, so if you see any grammar/spelling mistakes please feel free to call me out on them! Comments and feedback are much appreciated!

“Water.” A young boy, no older than five, pleaded in a foreign language. He was skin and bones, dressed in a dirty shirt too big for his feeble frame. Like the rest of him, it was covered in grime and blood. The citizens of Meteor City whispered and herded around the desperate child, who was on the verge of tears. “Food.” The boy begged once more, making grabby hands towards a lady with a basket of bread, who quickly hurried away. They all spoke in confusing words and sounds he didn’t understand. He was confused, he was scared. He doesn’t know where he is. 

His mother had dropped him off here a few days ago, a look of disdain in her eyes. “You are too weak, Feitan.” She chastised. “Too unhealthy and soft.” There was no hint of a soft mother he could detect in her eyes. “This is the best option for you.” A kiss to his forehead and his mother stood, brushing off her dress. “I’m sorry, Feitan. Survive.” The demand was the last exchange between the two, his mother’s parting gift.

Feitan was in hysterics. He missed his mother, his father, the comfort found in safety and the love his family once had for him, when he wasn’t sickly and kind and ran out of uses. He’s been wandering the city for days, crying for help from weary strangers. No one knew this child, the bony kid with a sunken face speaking in weird tongues. “Help. Please.” The boy cried, knees giving out as he fell on the side of the road. He was too tired. He hasn’t eaten since he was dropped off here, only drank from a muddy puddle the dogs were lapping up. He threw up multiple times after that.

Feitan was just crying now, a heaped mess on the ground. He was hurt and didn’t know what was going on. The dehydration and heat exhaustion are getting to him. He is dying, though Feitan is too young to comprehend that concept. All he knows is he is so very tired, and a long nap would certainly fix all of his problems. The boy relaxed as he unknowingly accepted his fate, quickly slipping into oblivion. 

In the fading light as Feitan loses consciousness, a boy appears before him, looking him over with vague intrigue. Ah, Feitan thinks, as he fades into nothingness. I see.

That must be God.

-

“He’s a lost cause, Chrollo.” Machi says, pinkish purple eyes flickering over to where the strange boy lays deathly still. Very occasionally his chest moves every so slightly, the only sign that he is still alive. The boy looked to be around Chrollo’s age. He had found the kid wandering streets, he said, speaking strangely with a voice tinged with fear and desperation. He proceeded to collapse, and that’s when Chrollo decided to gather him up and take him to Machi to fix him. How little the boy weighed when Machi took him from Chrollo to look over was alarming. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” The little girl huffed. “He drank bad water, so he’s sick. I don’t think he’s eaten too. And he has a lot of cuts. They’re icky. If they’re icky, that means they’re infected.” Machi rolled the last word over her tongue, careful with its pronunciation. She’s being taught how to be a doctor by one of the Elders, an old man on his way out. Apparently, Machi had a real knack for it, even for her age. “Can you try to fix him?” Chrollo asked curiously.

“Well, yeah, but he will still die.” Machi told him, not unkindly. “Trying to help would be a waste.” Machi was taught never to waste supplies on those who wouldn’t make it regardless. They were scarce enough as it is. “Try.” Chrollo told her, unsettling grey eyes boring into her own. “He will survive. He is a fighter at heart.” Machi doesn’t agree. Logic defied Chrollo’s belief. His recovery was next to impossible, he has yet to break his fever, he was barely breathing, and Machi couldn’t treat the infections properly. With the boy's already shitty immune system and his build, he would be dead by tomorrow. But still, Chrollo is never wrong, and he says it with such firm belief.

He’s certain the boy will be okay, just like he’s certain the sun rises and falls every day and night.

“Fine, but you owe me.” Machi says snottily, starting with a drip and carefully cleaning the wounds. “Why do you care so much, anyways?” Chrollo’s expression didn’t falter. “Meteor City protects their own.” He says firmly. “And he’s...weird.” The boy is too young to capture the allure in proper words. “I just know he is special. And, I want to know what language he was speaking.”

  
“Language? You mean English?” Machi asked, watching Chrollo’s eyes light up, in the way they only did when he went to preach his knowledge. “No. I read a book, there are all kinds of languages. Different types of words people use to talk in different places. Isn’t that cool?” It was cool, Machi thought. Something to abstract for her to completely understand, but understood enough for it to be amazing to her. “So he knows a different one? That’s why he was talking so weird?” Chrollo nodded. “That makes the most sense.”

“What language?” Chrollo held up a book. “I don’t know yet. I’m gonna have him point at his language when he wakes up. Then I’m gonna learn it so I can talk to him and teach him English.” Machi still didn’t think the poor kid was going to wake up, but she didn’t want to dash his dreams. Plus, she just had a feeling he would somehow make it out. Against all odds. Maybe she should try listening to her gut more often.

-

The boy woke up three days later. Chrollo watched him as he sat up, eyes full of fear and confusion. He opened his mouth and spoke, in strange syllables and words Chrollo didn’t understand. It intrigues Chrollo. He wants to know things, and the weak boy knew things Chrollo didn’t. He just handed the boy some bread and an apple. The apple was a bit old, but it wasn’t bad yet. He also had some water. The boy stared at Chrollo for a second before snatching the food and gulfed it down, gulping down the water as well. He probably shouldn’t be eating that fast, but Chrollo isn’t an expert and Machi is out so he lets the boy do as he pleases. Once he was done he curled in on himself, looking to Chrollo cautiously. He spoke again, the meaning of the words escaping Chrollo’s grasp of understanding. He grabbed the books he stole, bringing them over to Feitan three at a time. 

He didn’t understand any of the languages, but he’s sure he can steal a book that will help him learn them. Chrollo likes books. People drop a lot of books off in Meteor City, and Chrollo hoards them outside the pile of rubble he called a home, no matter the type. He taught himself to read, and he’s been teaching Machi to read. Eventually, the boy’s eyes widened and he began to point insistently at one of the books in a different language, speaking fast and jabbing the pages. Chrollo took the book from him and looked it over. He was pretty sure that it was called Japanese. “One second.” Chrollo said, forgetting that the boy couldn’t understand him.

He ran out and to the bookstore, where the owner gave him a glare. He knew the young boy stole from him, but never managed to catch the kid in the act. Chrollo looked around, eventually finding a book on translations. He grabbed it and stuffed it under his coat, along with beginner books for English and Japanese. They could learn each other's languages! He then slipped into the bathroom and got up on the sink, opening up the small window and squirming out of it.

Back at home, he opened up all three books with the young boy. Machi was back, now, and had semi-properly treated the boy. “It’s a miracle he’s alive.” Machi muttered as she peeled an apple, letting the strange boy eat the peels as she ate the actual fruit. Wow, he must really be hungry. Chrollo spent a good half hour examining the books, before finally speaking to the boy. “Name?” He asked, pronunciation botched to all hell, but regardless, the boy got the gist of it. “...Feitan.” He said, pointing at Chrollo and speaking again. Chrollo looked through the books once more before realizing he was asking for his name in return. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” He scanned the books once more and offered Feitan a smile, holding out a hand. 

“Friend?”

-

“She ride across the street.”

“She  _ rode  _ across the street, Feitan.”

Feitan, now seven years old, groaned and leaned back against the poorly made wall of their home, glaring at Chrollo, fighting the urge to crumble up Chrollo’s dumb homework in his hands. “What difference? Same point.” Chrollo smiled, ever so patient. “I want you to be able to speak proper English, like how I want to speak proper Japanese. That way no one will judge you for talking weird.” Feitan snorted. “No talk weird. English weird.” Chrollo just smiled at him the same.

“C’mon, Fei!” Nobunaga hollered cheerfully, walking up behind Feitan and ruffling his hair. Uvogin and Nobunaga joined them when Feitan was around six. He thinks. Feitan can’t remember his birthday, he can hardly remember his mother’s face at this point. They found the duo fighting off some older men, who were trying to steal the kids' meager supplies. Chrollo was impressed, and insisted they ‘recruit’ them. When Feitan asked for what, Chrollo got that hopeful look in his eyes and just said, ‘the future’.

Feitan doesn’t know what the future Chrollo envisions is, but he does know he’ll do anything to help Chrollo reach it. Chrollo saved his life. There’s nothing Feitan could ever do to repay Chrollo for giving Feitan a second chance. He swats Nobunaga’s hand off his hair with a scowl, making the other boy laugh. “Yer never gonna make friends like that, Fei!” Uvo called from their makeshift kitchen, which was just a firepit and a few bins to store food beside it. Feitan looked pointely to Chrollo. “They native English, no talk proper. Why I have to?”

“Cause I want you to be able to, if you want to.” Chrollo said sincerely. “I want all of you to be able to do whatever you want, so I’m going to make sure you all can do everything.” There was a silence that fell over the room, everyone staring at their unofficial leader with varying degrees of awe and embarrassment on their faces. Suddenly, the tension is broken with a swift  _ thwack!,  _ and all eyes turn to Feitan, pink-faced after smacking Chrollo on the back of his head with the English book. “Idiot. Embarrassing.” He muttered, before pointing at the book and averting his eyes. “What this word mean?”

Chrollo just smiled. 

-

“Have you ever killed before, Feitan?” 

Feitan looks up to Uvogin, eyebrows furrowing. “No.” Uvogin looked him over. “Why not?” Why not? What kind of question is that? “Are you too weak?” Feitan slammed his hands on the table, glowering at the other male. “Not weak! Just no need!” Uvogin laughed, patting Feitan’s back rather harshly, making him nearly fall onto the table. “No need to get riled up, dude! I just never met anyone from these parts that ain’t killed before.” Feitan sat back down and pondered those words. He knows his friends have all taken lives before, to ensure their own survival. Why hasn’t he? Feitan barely leaves the house. These past years he’s been so busy learning how to speak. He’s grown completely dependent.

It hurts to realize he’s completely defenseless on his own. 

“Uvogin.” Feitan said, looking up with determination brimming within his small form. “Teach me to fight.” Uvogin blinked, obviously surprised by the demand. As quickly as the shock came, though, it dissipated into excitement. “Hell yeah! I’ll make ya the best fighter in Meteor City, runt! Well, besides me!” Feitan ignored Uvogin rambling and instead smiled proudly to himself. He was gonna learn to defend himself. He is gonna start being useful instead of a burden.

He was not smiling a few short hours later.

“Oi! Get up, Feitan!” Uvogin yelled, looming over where Feitan had collapsed on the ground. “You haven’t even landed a punch yet!” Feitan forced his breath to level out, covered in sweat and grime and blood. “Moment.” He finally managed. “Water.” Uvogin rolled his eyes before grabbing the water and tossing Feitan a bottle. He chugs it down greedily. “You’re not very good at this.” Uvogin mutters, earning a glare from Feitan.

“Cause you’re trying to get him to fight like you.” Nobunaga says, and Feitan snaps his head up. When did he get there? “Hah? What’s that supposed to mean?” Uvogin asked, to which Nobunaga snorted.”You’re trying to teach him to fight like a brute. He’s a scrawny ass kid, he ain’t gonna be able to throw people around like you do!” He ignored the indignant ‘hey!’ from Feitan. Uvogin frowned, rubbing the back of his head and sighing. “I don’t get it.”

“We need to let him find his own fighting style.” Nobunaga told his best friend. “Why don’t we all teach him, and let him figure out what he wants from there?” Uvogin frowned. “Dah, I wanted to train ‘im though...fine.” Nobunaga smiled, and from there, Feitan’s actual training began. Surprisingly, over the months, Feitan learned the most from Nobunaga. He turned out to be a natural with a sword, using his small and lithe body to adapt a fighting technique based on speed and grace.

He also picked up a few rather unusual techniques. Chrollo told him they were well-known assassination techniques, but Feitan didn’t recall ever learning them. They just felt engraved into him, and he learned to sharpen his hands and the Rhythm Echo naturally. By the time he was eight, he could beat Nobunaga. He couldn’t best Uvogin in physical strength, but beat him a few times in terms of strategy. He beat Machi more often than not, and even won against Chrollo. Once, out of probably hundreds of fights, but still. Feitan was proud.

-

He first killed when he was nine. 

Feitan was going through the piles and piles of discarded gifts from the world that abandoned them. He found a few books Chrollo would probably like, and a singular punching glove for Uvogin. Of course, he got the basics and necessities as well, but it always made Feitan happy to see his friends happy with what he does for them. He was going through another pile when he heard some talking, immediately going on the defense. Meteor City was not a kind city, he’s learned this by now. He hides behind scrap metal and peeks out.

Some guy is trying to get close to a girl around his age, with blonde hair and tattered clothing. “C’mon girl, I can show you a good time. I’ll even pay ya, how does that sound?” The man grinned, and Feitan cringed. He swore he could smell his breath from here. “No.” The girl said firmly. “I will not. Go away.” The man scowled, and Feitan snuck out from behind his cover. “You little bitch!” He reached for the girl, who jumped out of the way, and Feitan’s heart stopped. The man was pulling out a knife.

Feitan wasn’t a merciful person. He didn’t really care for the girl. But if he let people like this go, he couldn’t live with himself. Besides, what if he went for Machi next? Killing him instead of letting her deal with him is a mercy on the man's part. Before he was really thinking about it, he had darted forward and sliced the hand holding the knife clean off with his sword. He was a few feet away by the time the man noticed, eyes widening as he screeched in agony. Feitan rushed forward and kicked him down, kneeling atop his chest with his sword positioned at his throat. 

“Little shit!” The man spat blood at him. “You think you can kill me?” Feitan does. He’s confident in his abilities. He’s just...he’s never killed someone before. Some part of him is scared of doing it. The man must sense this, because he smiles. “You can’t. I’ll be the one killing you, after I have my fun. You look pretty feminine yourself, maybe I should-” Feitan sees red, and pushes the blade down. It slices through flesh like butter, and Feitan watches as the man gurgles on his slit throat and life leaves his eyes. 

Feitan feels  _ power. _

It’s enlightening. Taking someone’s life makes him feel in control, powerful, as sick as that sounds. He likes it. His breathing is heavy and his hands are soaked in blood, but he likes the feeling. He’s smiling. Feitan feels  _ alive.  _ A meow pulls Feitan from his thoughts and he looks over to where the girl was. She was looking at him, holding a bundle in her arms. It was purring. A cat?

“I could have handled that myself.” She said. Her tone wasn’t condescending or defensive, and she offered no gratitude. She was simply pointing out a fact, and Feitan didn’t doubt it. That man was weak. He wondered if most humans were weak like that. Feitan hopes not. He wants to kill again, he wants a challenge. “I know.” Feitan responded, accent thick. She looks up and down, taking Feitan in. “I’m Pakunoda.” She says. “Have you seen any cat food?”

Pakunoda? That name was familiar to him. “You know Machi?” He inquired, watching Pakunoda’s eyes light up. “Yes! She’s my best friend!” Feitan knew that already. Machi never shut up about Pakunoda. “This is our cat! We named him Mochi. I need cat food.” Pakunoda was never introduced to the group, because, in Machi’s words, ‘she was too refined for the ragtag bunch of ruffians’.

“I help.” Feitan decided. “Then take you to base. Machi there.” Pakunoda smiled. “Okay! I’ve been wondering where Machi runs off to, she never tells me.” The two fell into silence as they searched, eventually finding a box of expired cans. It would have to do. Feitan carried it home. Pakunoda offered to carry it and Feitan could carry Mochi, but the cat had scratched him. Little bastard. Feitan kicked open the door to the old house they now occupied, setting the box down. “Home now! Brought Pakunoda!” There’s a mutter of confusion from Chrollo, following the sound of running. Machi came bursting in, staring at them both in shock . “Why is she here?” Machi asked Feitan, to which Pakunoda frowned.

“Do you not want me here? I can-I’ll leave.” Machi’s expression turned panicked, and she grabbed Pakunoda’s shoulder. “No no no, not that! Of course I want you here! I just didn’t expect you to come, is all. I didn’t think you’d like to hang around a bunch of stupid boys.” She relaxed when Pakunoda did. “Oh! You brought Mochi-and you’re covered in blood, Feitan.” Her lips pursed. “Didya get hurt or something? What happened?”

“Killed man. He threaten Pakunoda.” Machi’s glare was murderous, and yeah, Feitan definitely showed that guy mercy by not leaving him to the hands of the pink-haired girl. “I want kill again.” Machi shrugged. “Okay. There’s plenty of creeps around here to get rid of. Plus, Chrollo wants a few people dead.” Feitan could do that. He could kill for Chrollo. Finally, he could start repaying his endless debt. “Who’s Chrollo?” Pakunoda inquired.

“That would be me.” Chrollo said, and when did he get there? Feitan jumped a bit in place. Pakunoda didn’t look phased. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Pakunoda. Care to stay? Machi told me you enjoy reading, I have quite the library you’re welcome to look at.” Pakunoda brightened, and Machi sighed. “Oh, yes! Have you read Fablehaven?” Pakunoda and Chrollo immediately fell into easy conversation. They clicked well. 

Needless to say, by the end of the night, Pakunoda had officially joined their group.

-

Speaking of firsts, his first kiss is when he’s eleven. 

He’s sitting outside with Machi, the girl watching Mochi swipe at the grass. Feitan has killed dozens at this point. He’s also grown interested in torture. Sometimes Chrollo wanted information from some people, and they refused to tell them. His friends have been teaching him how to steal as well, and he swiped an old history book. They mentioned torture in the olden days, a method used to get information. Feitan liked it. It made him powerful.

Unfortunately, Feitan was still getting used to it. More often than not, his victims died before he could even get information from them. He needs to work on his patience and precision. So, he’s been practicing on birds and rats. That’s what he’s doing right now, carefully dissecting a rat and throwing pieces of it to Mochi. The rat has stopped writhing by now, but occasionally twitches in his careful hands, squealing in pain.

“Hey, Feitan.” Machi said, pulling Feitan from his work. “Am I weird to you?” Feitan answered easily. “We all weird. You no different. Good the way you are.” Machi relaxed a bit. “Thanks, I guess.” She fell silent after that, and Feitan set the rat down to look over to her. “Why ask?” Machi looked to Mochi, who was happily slurping up the rat’s intestine, then back to Feitan. “I told the elder I wanted to marry Pakunoda when I grow up, and he told me I was supposed to marry a boy. But I don’t think I like boys.” Her nose wrinkled up in disgust.

“I mean, you guys are all my good friends and all, but I don’t wanna hold hands or marry you or kiss you.” She sighed. “I want to do that all with Paku, but she’s a girl. I don’t know. Maybe I was born weird.” Feitan didn’t see anything weird about it. “Who care what cranky old man say? Not sure? Kiss boy, kiss Paku. See which you like.” Machi considered this. “Okay. Can I kiss you?” Feitan was not expecting that, but shrugged. He didn’t really see a problem with it. “Sure.”

Machi leaned forward and smashed their faces together. It was awkward and unpleasant, her nose was digging into his cheek and they just kind of stayed there, lips placed on the others without really doing anything. Machi eventually pulled away. “I didn’t like that.” Machi told him. Feitan wiped his lips on his bloody sleeve. “Me either.” They’re silent for another moment, before Machi speaks again. “Now I  _ really  _ wanna kiss Paku.” 

“Then go ask Paku for kiss. I can watch Mochi.” Machi whined. “But I’m nervous!” Feitan raised an eyebrow. “You no nervous with me. No nervous with Paku.” He picked up his rat again, but it was already dead. Damn. “But I didn’t care about you. I want Paku to like kissing me.” Machi sighed, standing up. “But. I won’t know unless I try! So I’ll try! Thanks, Feitan!” With a determined, albeit nervous smile, Machi headed into the house to find her crush, leaving Feitan alone with his thoughts and a cat.

Feitan raised a hand to run them over his lips, pondering. He didn’t really like kissing Machi. Did he like kissing girls? He didn’t think he would like kissing Pakunoda, but those were the only girls he knew, so he couldn’t be sure. He tried to picture a random girl, but the thought just didn’t sit right with him. Then he thought of kissing boys. He wouldn’t mind kissing Uvogin, or Nobunaga. Or Chrollo. In fact, maybe he’d like kissing Chrollo. He doesn’t have a crush on him or anything like that, he was just nice to look at and stuff. 

So, did that mean Feitan likes boys? He stared to the sky, contemplative. Maybe? Well, he doesn’t really care about love and mushy stuff like that anyways. If he falls in love with someone, then he’ll know. Until he does, if he does, it isn’t important. So Feitan decides to stop thinking about it, standing up and luring the cat back inside with the rat carcass. He closed the door and headed to the streets, his previous problem all but forgotten. Now, his only priority is finding another rodent to practice on.

-

With the introduction of Franklin to their group at fourteen, comes the introduction of Nen.

“He beat me!” Uvogin yelled in distress. “How did you beat me, punk?!” Franklin, who had been dragged here by Uvogin after he won against him in a street brawl, frowned. “Cause you’re weak.” Uvogin went to punch the scarred boy, who easily dodged. “No, I don’t mean like that. You don’t have Nen to make you strong.” Chrollo tilted his head, eyes alight with inquiry. “Nen?” Franklin nodded. “Yeah, nen. You know, aura?” At the confusion from the others, he sighed. “Alright, look.” He held his hands up and detached the fingers, falling and hanging on by chains. Feitan’s eyes widened as Franklin turned and pointed his hands at the fence, bullets flying from the holes in his hands and tearing through the flimsy material. Feitan covers his ears as his eyes widened, ears ringing.

Once the shock wears off, Chrollo turns to Franklin, very obviously impressed. “How did you do that?” He asked. “What’s the trick?” Right, it had to be a trick. Feitan sees kids performing magic tricks on the side of the roads for a few jenny to get them through the week. Uvogin likes to threaten them into revealing their secrets and Pakunoda slips them far more than they deserve in payment afterwards. She’s too soft, but she can be hard when the time comes. Like now-she looks ready to murder Franklin if he makes the wrong move. Feitan is too, actually. Even if that was somehow a trick, it was a dangerous one.

“There’s no trick. It’s nen.” Franklin frowned, obviously trying to figure out how to explain it. “Oh! I can open your nodes! Then you’ll understand it.” Franklin looked proud of this, and Feitan sharpened his hand. “You not doing anything to me.” He snarled. Franklin took a step back, examining his hand. “Is that your nen? But there’s no au-” He was interrupted by Chrollo. “Do the node thing to me. I want that power.” Nobunaga snaps his head to look at Chrollo, as if he was a crazy man. And, Feitan realizes, he is. Chrollo is insane.

Maybe that’s why Feitan is so willing to follow him into hell and back.

“I think it’s a good idea.” Machi tuned in, quietly. “I have...a feeling. That’s all.” Pakunoda looked hesitant. “...if Machi’s gut says it will be fine. I suppose it will be. I have no objections.” Uvogin laughed. “If I can get stronger than this guy, I’m down!” Nobunaga elbows his best friend in the stomach, and in response, Uvogin smacks him upside the head. “Ow!” Nobunaga snarled, looking at his best friend, annoyed. “...well, if the rest of ya idiots are agreeing to this, whatever. We can take this guy out if we need too.” Nobunaga punctuated this with a harsh glare directed at Franklin, who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Fine. We do nodes.” Feitan grumbled, crossing his arms. He didn’t like this at all. He didn’t like variables he can’t control, doesn’t like things that are stronger than him. Things that threaten the power he’s gathered for himself that he’s carefully built up over the years. But he doesn’t want to appear cowardly in front of his friends. Plus, if this could make him more powerful. Well. “Hurry up.” Franklin looked over all of this, probably wondering how the hell he got into this. Nevertheless, he held out his hands and looked them down. “Get into a natural position and close your eyes. This will hurt a bit.” Feitan almost insisted he keep his eyes open, but thought better of it. He could detect Franklin just as well with his eyes closed. If Franklin attacked, he’d be ready. Plus, he’d likely not put full power into it if he assumed they were all vulnerable. 

Feitan got into a natural stance and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations around him. He could hear the shuffling of his friends getting into their positions, which soon faded to the sound of breathing. “Alright, I’m starting now.” Franklin told them all, and Feitan resisted the urge to tense into a defensive position. He waited a second, then two. Then he felt immense pain, so much he nearly bucked over. It was there for a few seconds, then it faded and was replaced with something else. Feitan’s eyes flew open as he examined the strange white light flowing through his fingers. It felt like power.

“That is your aura.” He heard Franklin explain. “It’s different for everyone, my sensei said. If you get the proper training, you can turn it into special abilities.” Pakunoda looked Franklin over curiously, finally pulling her gaze from her form. “Can you introduce us to your sensei, then? I would like to get formal training.” Franklin shrugged. “Sorry, can’t. I killed him.” At that, Feitan perked up, raising his eyebrow at the large boy in front of him. “Why?”

“Well, I wanted to know if I got stronger than him, so I killed him. That’s how I got all these scars.” Nobunaga frowned. “Then you should teach us.” That seemed to take the boy by surprise. Feitan snorted. If he thought a simple murder for the thrill of it would deter their little ragtag gang, he was very, very wrong. “And if I train you just to see if I’ll be strong enough to kill you at your best?” Chrollo smiled at that, his creepy smile he got when he was given a challenge. Oh, this would be fun.

“Then I’ll just kill you.” Chrollo said, voice and stance unwavering. Franklin looked him over, before smiling. “You’re completely confident in yourself, huh? I like that.” He crossed his arms and looked the group over. “Alright. I’ll stick around for now, teach you what I know. See how this takes us.” Franklin wouldn’t end up killing them, in the end. In fact, he became the one to hold Uvogin back over the years when he decided he wanted to jump off a cliff, just to see if he could survive the landing. “You guys are gonna be the death of me.” Franklin says in exasperation months after they’ve met, settling yet another feud between Nobunaga and Machi. Feitan jabs his side with the sheath to his katana and says, “That was plan, no?”

-

The group had mastered Nen by the time Feitan turned seventeen. Well, mastered is a stretch, because Feitan couldn’t really do damage control with his special ability. He knew enough, though, and incorporated it into his fighting and his torture, and he didn’t even need Rising Sun to be extremely powerful. The transmuter was fast, efficient, and deadly. That’s all he really cared for. The Spiders have been formed now. Chrollo is tattooing Feitan’s tattoo, which he decided to get on the back of his calf. With experience and training, what would have been searing pain was nothing more than a prick for him. 

"Would you kill for me?” Feitan looked down to Chrollo, taking a moment to process what he had even spoken. Chrollo hadn’t moved at all, continuing to press the needle gun into his skin, leaving small jolts of pain in his nerves that Feitan ignored. “Of course. You need someone dead?” Feitan’s English was much better now, but he was quite the slow speaker. He needed time to process what he wanted to say and translate it into the right words. “No, not at the moment.” A brief pause. “Would you die for me?”

“Yes. Why ask stupid questions?” Feitan did notice a change in Chrollo’s posture at that, he tensed, eyes darkening. “That’s the wrong answer. I may be the leader of the spiders, but I’m not more valuable than the spider as a whole. Don’t waste your life on me. Make it thrive in the Spider.” What the hell brought this on? Feitan’s eyebrows creased. “What is the matter? Are you in danger? Sick?” Chrollo shook his head.

“No, I am simply worried for you, Feitan. You, and the other members.” Chrollo almost looked...worried. The new tattoo on his head creased with the lines of his forehead. “You all would die for me, even if it’s not the best for the Spider, right? I can’t afford that. Can’t let my dream go to waste.” He set the needle gun down and sighed. “Done. It will ache for a few days. But after that it should be fine. If it starts getting inflamed, go to Machi-”

“If we in danger, would you die for us? Or not interfere for Spider?” Feitan asked, his broken grammar shining through. Chrollo’s breath hitched. “I...I don’t know.” He looked down to his hands, looking deeply disturbed by the revelation. Huh. So Chrollo hasn’t thought about that before. “If you cannot answer for the Spider, do not expect us to do the same. We can rebuild the Spider as long as you are alive. You bring us together, Chrollo.” Feitan stood, ignoring the dull pain in his leg, and pulled down his pants leg. “I kill and I die for you. We all kill and die for you. For your dream.” He spoke even slower than normal. Carefully, wanting to make sure the words hit home.

“I owe you my life. We all owe you life, in ways. Besides.” He looked down to Chrollo, which is not really what he was used to, since Chrollo had two growth spurts over the last few years and Feitan had a grand total of zero. “If you get into situation where I would need to give my life for you, I think we’re all pretty fucked.” Chrollo was quiet for a few moments, before smiling softly. “It’s ‘get into  _ a  _ situation, Feitan. You forget the a.”

“Fuck you too.”

-

There’s an underground fight club of sorts that has begun to grow in popularity in Meteor City. It's led by a man commonly known as ‘Pops’. He takes the abandoned kids and raises them, teaches them nen and has them fight for his profit. Chrollo told Feitan it was similar to gladiator fights, something he read about from the ancient times. People pay a fee to enter, place a bet, and watch the kids kill each other. Pakunoda crunched the numbers and this Pops guy was turning over a very large profit. Feitan really couldn’t give two shits about the whole thing, but apparently Pops and Chrollo didn’t have the best track record. The old man was getting in the way of some Troupe stuff, and Chrollo needed him out of the way. He needed to know his allies, cause there’s no way the guy was inconveniencing the Troupe that much on his own.

Naturally, Feitan took the job.

It was a good way to get away for a short while, too. The Phantom Troupe recently took in a new member, a creepy man named Omokage. Feitan didn’t like him. He was always preaching as if he was some sort of holy being and dragging a puppet of his sister around. Plus, Machi felt that he was off. Feitan trusted Machi’s gut feeling more than anything else. Really, Feitan doesn’t know why Chrollo lets the creepy fucker stay around, but Feitan would never question his leader’s judgement. Still, he definitely isn’t turning down the opportunity to get away from that fucker for a bit.

Feitan takes his time with Pops. His real name is Warui Rojin, and he actually owns a lot more than the underground ring. He makes the boys he finds fight, and the girls are forced to work in his second business: prostitution. It makes Feitan sick, especially with the memory of a man threatening Pakunoda all those years ago. He enjoys cutting off Warui’s genitals and shoving them into his now empty eye socket. Probably too much, because he fails to notice someone come in. 

“Who the hell are ya?” Feitan whips around and draws his sword, glaring at the man who had just spoken. He looked to be around Feitan’s age, with tanned skin and baggy clothing. He was rather muscular and-what the fuck, why didn’t he have eyebrows? “Woah, dude, put down the sword. I’m not gonna stop ya.” He held his hands up to show he meant no harm, but his posture spoke differently. He was ready to attack if Feitan made a move he didn’t approve of. His aura seemed pretty powerful, but Feitan was certain he could take him on. “Who are you?” Feitan asked. “What do you want?”

“Well, I came up here to kill the bastard, but it looks like you’ve already done the job.” The man looked over to Warui, who let out a gargled wail. “You were way crueler than I would have been, though.” The man dropped his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, looking way too nonchalant for the situation. “Name’s Phinks. Who are ya?” Feitan genuinely didn’t know what to do. He should kill Phinks, but he could tell the other man would put up a fight, and he really didn’t want to draw that kind of attention here. This was supposed to be a covert mission. 

“Sit down and tell me what you know.” Feitan finally decided. “I will decide if you live or die.” Phinks raised-well, his facial expression changed, but he didn’t have an eyebrow to raise with it, and that really unnerved Feitan for some bizarre reason. “Fine, fine, whatever.” He didn’t look scared of Feitan. Usually Feitan didn’t mind, cause that was their mistake, underestimating him. But Phinks has seen what he’s capable of and still acts like he could care less. It makes his blood boil. “Whaddya wanna know?”

“Who you are.” Feitan glowered. “Why you try and kill Warui.” Phinks sighed. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, I guess. Pops brought my sister and I here and made us work for ‘im, like the rest of the brats here.” Phinks’ eyes began to shine with anger, the first real emotion Feitan has seen him show. “Separated us when I was six. Started fighting.” Phinks leaned back in the car and grinned at Feitan. “I’m the best fighter here, you know? My fights draw a real crowd.” Feitan rolled his eyes. “Don’t care about backstory. Tell me what you know.” Phinks muttered something that suspiciously sounded like ‘prick’ under his breath, and Feitan fought the urge to run him through with his sword.

“Recently I learned what the girls are forced to do. I thought they just fought too, you know. But then I heard some people who were watching my fight talkin’.” Phinks looked sick with anger. “She-she was  _ six  _ when they started making her-I-” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I came here to kill the bastard and try and figure out where the hell my sister is. Getting past his bodyguards was easy. I just didn’t expect someone to beat me to it.”

Feitan was still sceptical. “You have no weapon.” The other man laughed. “Don’t need one. Planned on doing ‘im in like I did the guards.” He made a vague motion with his hands. “Snap his neck.” Feitan rubbed his temple. So this idiot killed all the guards? So much for a covert mission. “He would die instantly. You could not get information that way.” Phinks blinked. “Oh. I didn’t think that far. I guess I woulda just...punched him til he fessed up?” Jesus Christ. Feitan felt a migraine coming on.

“So, I answered all your questions. Answer mine. Why are you after Pops? I know you ain’t one of the fighting boys.” Phinks frowned. “Are ya one of the whores? I heard Pops took some of the more feminine boys for that. Some customers liked that.” Feitan actually did end up trying to half-heartedly stab Phinks with his sword, who rolled out of the way. “Hey! The hell, man?” Feitan snarled. “Not a whore. A spider.” 

“You mean the Phantom Troupe?” Phinks seemed genuinely interested. “They’ve been gaining some traction down here. You really one of them?” A sigh. “Why I lie about it? I’m spider. I kill him cause he try and sabotage us.” Feitan looked over to Pops, who was breathing heavily and making muffled sobbing noises. Pathetic. He’s gotten everything he needed, he should finish the bastard off. But...he looked over to Phinks, and sighed. He doesn’t want to have to argue with this idiot. “Oi. Bastard.” He pulled harshly at Warui’s greasy hair, making the man wail. “Where the girls?” He didn’t answer at first, but when Feitan picked up his scalpel and slid it under Warui’s remaining eye, he began to blabber.

“No more! No more! The brothel is under St. Peter’s Bar! You just-” Feitan jolted the scalpel up and watched the man's eye snap out with a sick satisfaction, relishing in the screams. “Enough talk.” He looked back to Phinks, who had the decency to look mildly disturbed. “There. Go find girls. You and other fighters free now.” Phinks blinked. “Wow, I... didn’t really think I’d get this far, in all honesty.” He put his hand to his mouth, looking lost in thought. “The guys don’t have anywhere to go. And neither will the girls. God, I didn’t really think this revolution through.” Feitan snorted. “No shit.”

“Take me to your leader.”

Feitan blinked, almost dropping the scalpel. “What?” Phinks was suddenly by Feitan’s side, looking down at him with an intense look on his face. “I can’t help them by myself. Everyone says you spiders are the real deal. You guys can help me with this.” Feitan frowned. “Why we help you? What it in for us?” Phinks hesitated. “I’ll work for you guys, join you, whatever. Pops was sitting on a fortune. You can have it, I don’t care. I just need this done.” Feitan glared at Phinks as he thought it over. Well, Feitan has morales. He wants those poor kids out of the brothel and fighting ring. And he doesn’t have a good reason to decline.

“Whatever. Let’s go.” Feitan started packing up his tools. “Huh? Really?” Feitan pointed the bloody scalpel at Phinks. “Don’t let me change mind. Shut up.” Phinks quieted down, for a total of two seconds. Christ. “What about Pops? You’re just gonna leave him alive?” Feitan looked back to the pathetic man in the bloodied chair, who had lost the strength to even whimper. “You came to kill him right?” Feitan scoffed as he swung his bag over his shoulders, pausing at the door. “If you spider, you need to kill. You get honors.”

It was the first time Feitan saw Phinks genuinely smile.

-

“So you want to join the Troupe.” Chrollo hummed, looking over to Feitan. “Your opinion?” The young man looked to Phinks and crossed his arms. “Don’t like him.” Phinks made an indigent sound while Machi snorted in the background. “What the hell man?” Feitan shushed Phinks, who was getting progressively redder and redder with anger. “But he fight good. Strong aura. I guess he ok to be spider.” Chrollo took this into consideration. “Well, are there any objections?” There was a moment of silence, everyone looking to each other to see if anyone would speak up. No one did.

“Alright, then I don’t see a reason to deny you. We’ll give you a month. If we don’t have any problems and you survive that long, you’ll be an official spider.” Phinks beamed. “Now,” Chrollo crossed his legs, looking serious. He was in business mode. “Tell me about this plan of yours.” The Troup settled around to get a grasp on the situation. Feitan sat besides Machi and Nobunaga, wanting to be as far away from Omokage as possible. Machi had the same idea, leaning into Pakunoda’s side and keeping her eyes anywhere but the puppeteer. “I see.” Chrollo hummed. “So, they’re selling out children, and the bar is a cover.” Pakunoda looked pissed. That was not a good thing. Pakunoda rarely got mad, but the last time she did, Nobunaga couldn’t use his left arm for three months. 

“That’s sickening.” She muttered. “Boss, what of the patrons? What do we do with them when we storm the place?” Chrollo smirked at his second-in-command, eyes dark. “Do what you will.” Immediately, the air shifted. They knew what that meant. Well, with the exception of Phinks, who looked confused. They were free to do what they pleased with the customers. Not one of them would be leaving the place alive. “Phinks, you mentioned this Pops figure had a massive fortune, right?” Phinks nodded. “If I’m right, he has nearly half a billion jenny.” Chrollo nodded in affirmation and began writing out some numbers, tapping the pen against the paper. 

“The children will need a safe place to go, and resources to take care of them. With an estimated thousand children, that will be enough to provide for them for almost two years.” Chrollo frowned. “Not enough. If we want to pull this off, we’ll need to up our heists.” Uovgin drummed his finger against the table with thinly concealed bloodlust. “We’ll do it, though, right, Boss?” He grinned. “A few more heists is nothing!”

“Of course. It’s what those children deserve.” Chrollo folded his hands. “This is our city. It’s our job to protect it, and rid it of sins like this.” Feitan honestly couldn’t give two shits for the city. He doesn’t care for it, not like Chrollo does. Meteor City has never done him any favors. But he does care for this little fucked-up family he has, and if they say the city is important, he’ll defend it. He knows they’d do the same for something he cared about. That’s just how the Spider works.

“Nobunaga, Franklin, Pakunoda, you’ll be in charge of helping the children settle down and making sure they’re well. We’ll be using the old warehouse down south to shelter them until we can get something more suitable. Omokage, Uvogin, Phinks, I want you two to free the boys. Feitan, Machi and I will take down the brothel.” Phinks jolted a bit at that. “Chrol-er, boss. I can draw up a layout of the fighting ring, but please, let me join the team saving the girls.” He frowned. “My sister, she-well, it’s important to me. Please.”

“I want to be on the team taking on the brothel as well.” Pakunoda said, looking at Chrollo. “I know helping the children is an important task, but I feel I need to do this.” They stared at each other silently for a moment, before Chrollo nodded. “I see. I’ll switch places with Phinks, and Machi and Pakunoda will switch as well. Any other objections?” Silence. Chrollo stood, slamming his hand onto the table. “Very well. Pakunoda is in charge of her team, and Franklin is in charge of his. We head out now.” His eyes were full of anger and determination. Feitan felt the same. “We don’t have a second to waste.”

-

Taking out the workers and customers at the brothel was way too easy. None of them knew nen, and only one or two of them could even swing a punch. Within a minute the raid was over, the floor littered with bodies. Pakunoda frowned, digging the end of her heel into the head of one of the dead men. “This sight will scare the children.” She muttered. “I’ll call Machi and tell her to get the transport ready. You boys clean this up.” With that, Pakunoda pulled out her phone and left the room. Feitan sighed, cleaning duty wasn’t fun at all. But she had a point.

Phinks looked like he wanted to argue, so Feitan kicked him in the shin. “Ow! Why?!” Phinks glared at Feitan, who simply shook his head. “I know you want to find sister. But we do this first. She’ll be scared if she see all the death.” Phinks took a few deep breaths before sighing, looking deflated. “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” They worked in silence for a while, throwing the bodies behind the shop where the children wouldn’t see them. They couldn’t do much about the bloodstains, but hey, it was an improvement. Surprisingly, Feitan was the first to talk. “Tell me. About your sister.”

Phinks looked up from where he was dragging a body, then down again. “Yeah, guess you should know who to keep an eye out for. Her name is Ukra. She’d be what, twelve, thirteen now?” He sighed. “It’s been too long. Her skin is lighter than mine, but she had the same hair, and blue eyes. I don’t really know much else.” He sighed. “We got dumped here when our parents died. Don’t remember how. Aunt didn’t want to take care of us. She was just a baby. Pops found us and took us in. Taught me nen and how to fight, put me in the ring. Then one day he just...took her away. Told me it was time for her to start workin’. Haven’t seen her since.”

Phinks’ eyebrows were furrowed in anger as Feitan silently listened. “We find her.” He said. “You be with her again.” Phinks dropped the body onto the pile and sighed. “I hope so. I wonder if she’ll even remember me.” Feitan didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. He just continued in silence. Pakunoda eventually joined in and helped them once she was done with the call. “Machi’s bringing a van. We’ll have to take them in small groups.” Pakunoda sighed once they finished, wiping her forehead. “Send them out to the lobby. I’ll sort them out and help Machi transport them. 

Phinks was obviously eager to get to it, so Feitan just nodded and the two made their way into the halls, opening the first door. A girl sat on a bed with a raggedy dress, looking terrified. “Please, sirs, no more. He said I didn’t have to serve anyone else today-” Feitan felt a fresh wave of rage at the fuckers that did this. If only they had the time, Feitan would have taken his sweet time ending those men. “No no, kiddo, we aren’t here to-” Phinks couldn’t even say it. “We’re saving you. Can you walk?” The girl eyed them in fear, but nodded slowly. “Okay, can you head to the front? Our friend is up there, she’s really nice. She’s gonna help you get out of here. You don’t need to work anymore.”

“Promise?” The girl asked, voice wavering. Feitan’s heart broke a little at that. “Yes. Promise.” He vowed. “We protect you now. Come on.” The girl, albeit hesitant, got up and clutched at her dress with her tiny fists. She couldn’t be more than ten years old. Those sick fucks...the pair led the child out of the room and to Pakunoda, who immediately began giving her water and a granola bar, talking to her gently. Pakunoda was better with kids than either of them were, but Feitan has to admit he was impressed at how soft Phinks was. Perhaps it was a brotherly instinct. They continued to make their rounds, helping the children out and calming them down. Some were worse for wear, lashing out at them or trying to fight. A few couldn’t walk and needed to be carried out. Phinks and Feitan didn’t really talk to each other, too focused on the kids and the dark reality of the situation. Though Feitan did notice Phinks getting slightly more frantic the more rooms they cleared, and he was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“Kid.” He eventually asks a girl, around fifteen or sixteen. “Do you know a girl named Ukra? We look for her.” The girl looked to him with blank eyes. “They took Ukra to the back room a week or so ago.” Feitan frowned. “Back room.” The girl just shrugged again, completely vacant. Poor thing. “I don’t know. No one ever comes back from there.” The pit in his stomach only worsened. “I see.” Feitan sighed. “Go to lobby. We get you out of here.” The girl just nodded tiredly and left. Phinks was helping another girl out of a different room, and looked over to Feitan. “Everything okay? You look worried.”

Feitan just nodded. The mission first. Then they could worry about this back room. The rest of the rooms were, as the girl said, devoid of Phinks’ sister. “Where is she?” Phinks managed once they cleared all the rooms, voice cracking. “She isn’t here. She’s not here, Feitan.” Feitan didn’t know how to help him. “We only checked rooms. Not facilities.” He offered. “There rooms in back.” The rooms in the back were staff rooms, bathrooms, and electrical and water facilities.

And then the back room.

Feitan opened it, and immediately was greeted with the smell of death. It was a horrible sight. Piles of bodies of young children were kept there, in various states of decay. Feitan stepped back and covered his nose, and he had his mask on. Phinks, however, took a step forward, eyes wide. “What the fuck?” He whispered. “What the fuck?” Feitan watched him worriedly. “Sex work dangerous. Sickness. Many kids must die.” Phinks wasn’t listening to him, though. He took a few steps forward, reaching up to one of the bodies atop the pile, then retreated them. The dead girl was malnourished and, well, dead, but Feitan immediately knew who it was. 

“Ukra.” Phinks muttered, eyes wide. “What…” Feitan winced. He doesn’t know how to deal with grief, how to help with grief. He just stood there. “She’s dead.” Phinks muttered. “I was too late.” He eventually reached out and picked her body up, closing her unseeing eyes. The pain and softness in his eyes felt too intimate for Feitan to see. "Want bury her?” Feitan eventually asked. Phinks looked to Feitan, tears in his eyes that neither of them will talk about. “...yeah. It’s what she deserves.”

Feitan called Chrollo and told him the situation, and then they carried the body out to a little garden. Feitan dug a shallow grave while Phinks searched for a blanket, gently wrapping his deceased sister in the cloth. He stepped into the grave and placed her down, resting his hand over her heart. There was a moment of silence before Phinks came back up, nodding to Feitan with a blank look. Neither of them spoke as they filled the hole with dirt. Feitan pulled a bottle of whiskey from his robes once they were done, gesturing for Phinks to take the bottle. The man stared at him before sitting down next to him, taking a large swig before he passed it back. They continued like that until dawn 

Not a single word was exchanged, but Feitan knew a connection was made. The next day, when they woke up in the dirt, they gathered flowers and placed them on the makeshift grave before Feitan looked to Phinks and just nodded. “Okay, we go home.” Phinks just smiled half-hearted and walked with him, the pair falling into a comfortable silence once more,

Maybe having another member in the Phantom Troupe wouldn’t be so bad after all.


End file.
